


Twitterpated

by Manna_di_San_Nicola



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Fantasizing, Horniness, Infidelity, Masturbation, Mommy Kink, Multi, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, Situational Humiliation, Submission, Teacher-Student Relationship, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2379932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manna_di_San_Nicola/pseuds/Manna_di_San_Nicola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of the time, Wes does just want nice conversation and flowers and stuff so mushy his own mom would probably gag. But, sometimes, his libido turns from a baby deer to a full-grown stag and impales him. Impales him to the point where he can’t even think the word ‘impale’ without blushing and shifting like his ass is empty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twitterpated

**Author's Note:**

> The Word document for this is titled 'How To Get Away With Writing Porn An Hour Before Work' because that's when I did it - when I should have been getting dressed and brushing my damn teeth.

Wes has heard it his entire life, mostly from girls and very embarrassingly from other people’s parents – he’s so ‘innocent’, he’s ‘the kind you take home to Mom’. Of course, if saying that is the _actus reus_ , then making sure he understands that they _mean_ ‘he’s a stick in the mud virgin I’d never touch’ has always been the _mens rea_. There are only so many times a boy can be compared to Bambi before he wants to scream ‘even Bambi got to be twitterpated, you know!’

 

And they’re not wrong one hundred percent of the time, he guesses? Most of the time, Wes does just want nice conversation and flowers and stuff so mushy his own mom would probably gag. But, sometimes, his libido turns from a baby deer to a full-grown stag and impales him. Impales him to the point where he can’t even think the word ‘impale’ without blushing and shifting like his ass is empty.

 

It’s never on a weekend because that would be too easy. No, it’s always on a day where Wes has to interact with nigh on hundreds of people and bite his lip until he bleeds to keep from asking nine out of ten of them to rip his clothes off and do him dirty. This hasn’t changed since entering law school. If anything, it’s gotten worse – it doesn’t look like there are any unattractive people in his entire fucking campus!

 

He tries to focus on the work in front of him, the latest case Professor Keating has taken on. It works about as well as stopping water from gushing out of an upside-down cup with his hand. At least he’s not that wet. Yet. It can’t be as mortifying as he imagines, but he feels like he has to ask everyone to repeat everything and you’d think the embarrassment would make it less hot. But it’s a little sexy, wondering who knows how desperate he is for it, his heart racing for fear (anticipation?) of discovery.

 

He steps to the side a few times to slap himself in the face and tell himself to focus, damn it. Laurel asks, the kindest one who could ask, and Wes plays it off as not enough sleep. She gets it, since it wasn’t even a lie – they’re law students, for crying out loud ( _he wishes he could_ ).

 

Wes wants to sob when he somehow makes it through the day to Professor Keating dismissing them all. He’d been sure she’d pull him aside, tell him to go home and not come back until his head was screwed on straight (or not come back at all). The trip home is a blur – his cock is too hard for his legs to hurt from pedalling so fast and he barely has time to be mortified when he almost slams into Rebecca on the stairs.

 

Though running into Rebecca (a bit more literally than he wanted) does make Wes think to slide the bed away from the wall as much as he can – he doesn’t want to add to the ‘bad law student neighbour’ list with his obnoxious jerking off. And then once he flops onto his bed and shoves his hand into his pants, he imagines her finding out anyway.

 

He imagines her being so pissed off that she pulls his hands out from his ratty briefs and pins them to the chewed up headboard with one hand. Then she shoves her fingers in his mouth to shut him up for once. They’d taste like salt, maybe, and lime – little hints of her bar like the way Wes could never stop smelling like coffee when he’d had a barista job at sixteen.

 

Maybe then she starts to rub against him, because it’s just not fair that she should have to listen to all this fucking and not get any. Maybe she stops right when he’s on the edge, because he should be punished for being so selfish, because she had to put up with his panting so now he has to put up with this. Quid pro quo. Maybe she makes him beg for it around her fingers, slurred pleases and frantic licks that he hopes will make her put his tongue somewhere more worthwhile.

 

And then _she_ decides to be selfish, works down her pants and panties and replaces her fingers with her pussy. It’s just as tasty without the hint of lime. There’s nothing Wes loves like giving oral – not that he’s done much, but he has a funny feeling he won’t be proven wrong any time soon.

 

When she pulls away, it’s not Rebecca on top of him, but Michaela. She looks over her shoulder with a smirk and there’s Connor, working his fingers into Wes. He’s just another way for them to compete – who can fuck him best, who can make him come the most? He’s not even a pawn – he’s the chessboard and they can play to their heart’s content.

 

Connor takes Wes into his mouth – he wonders if his pubes tickle Connor the way Connor’s facial hair tickles his thighs. Probably not – that tickle feels really nice. And not just his beard, either, but the way the hand that isn’t working his tight ass open rests on his thigh, stroking up and down, even massaging a little sometimes. He bumps Wes’s prostate just as he gulps and Wes hasn’t been keeping track, but the way he can feel Connor smirk around him as he sprays down his throat makes him think he just pulled into the lead.

 

Wes has never really cared about his size, but it makes something in him twitch to hear that Connor’s voice is raspy when he says, “Now who has something to learn?”

 

Michaela rolls her eyes and slides down, smirking again at the way Wes tries to lean forward with a whine to taste her pussy again. His fingernails dig into the mattress with the effort of keeping himself from thrusting when she reaches beneath their lined up legs to slot his cock inside of her. The gasp rips out of him when he feels her bottom out – he doesn’t want to be mean and compare the two, but she’s tighter than Connor’s mouth and just as slick. That lead might not last for long - Connor looks like he’s realized that too when Michaela starts to ride him.

 

So Wes decides to be selfish again - he looks over at Connor with his big Bambi eyes and he begs him without a word to keep that lead. Fuck his mouth, fuck his ass, but don’t just stand there when Wes is buzzing like this and needs more and more and more. He arches his spine – oops, looks like Connor lost his lead. Well, Wes tried, so he doesn’t feel guilty when he reaches forward and starts to thumb at Michaela’s clit. She calls him a good boy and he nearly loses it again, refractory period be damned.

 

(Later, he’ll chastise himself for not imagining wearing protection.)

 

And Connor notices. Of course Connor notices and immediately puts his fingers back in Wes’s ass and pulls out the big guns. “You take it so beautifully, Wes.” “You feel amazing around my fingers.” “Want you so bad.” “Gonna fuck you the way you need.” He can feel his dick leaking pre-come inside Michaela the way his mouth is leaking drool – all he can do is feel. Not very becoming of a lawyer, but he’ll feel guilty for that later as well.

 

When Connor finally pushes in, Wes can’t help but push air out of his lungs. He feels like a bubble that had just been popped. Connor starts slowly rolling his hips, almost sliding all the way out until it’s just the bulb of his cock-head pushing Wes’s ass open and then moving back in until his balls slap Wes’s cheeks. Wes thinks it’s going to kill him and that he could stay like this forever all at once and, just to be more confusing, yet another part of him wants it faster.

 

Connor obliges. Or, at least, Wes thinks he does until he starts slamming into Wes so vigorously that he can’t keep quiet any longer and he realizes that it’s Asher on top of him pounding away. Asher talks too. “Perfect fucking hole.” “Gonna nut right up in you, slut.” “Love getting dicked like this, don’t you?” He reminds Wes of the American Psycho movie – like if Wes had a mirror, Asher would be watching himself fuck Wes’s brains out. Maybe Wes should mind more. He’ll think about that later.

 

When Wes looks up to where Michaela had been, his heart skips a beat and the imaginary Asher disappears. “I knew you could keep a secret, my good boy.” Professor Keating looks even more terrifying on top of his dick than she did staring him down with questions about _mens rea_. “You make me so very proud.” Her hand comes to his chin, her thumb brushing against his lips like Rebecca’s ( _not Rebecca, it had just been him, fucking himself in the dark_ ) had.

 

He meets her eyes and takes it into his mouth. She doesn’t have to be married in his head. This isn’t an event bathroom where she’s stroking his chest and he’s so hard he’s afraid he’ll pass out.

 

“That’s right, baby. Just lie back. Let Mama do all the work.” Wes hadn’t been lying to Laurel – he’s so tired. He just wants to stop sometimes, let someone else handle it all, even when he loves what he’s doing. Nobody can be strong all the time. Not even Professor Keating.

 

And, yet, thinking about how powerful she’d been even on the verge of tears is what sends Wes over the edge again. And everyone else looks up to her – Connor, Michaela… That was a lot of dominant personalities. How long before somebody really does find out how desperate Wes is? How long before someone destroys him with it?

 

Lying on his bed, shirt and belly covered in his own come, the idea doesn’t seem that sexy anymore.


End file.
